


Little Bird

by deapdool



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Is the bird a metaphor?, Lance works at a daycare, Langst, M/M, Oh also, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Post-Voltron, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, U DECIDE, and his family - Freeform, he just loves kids, its only brief tho, just a bit of, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 12:25:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deapdool/pseuds/deapdool
Summary: Little bird,little bird,fly through my window.





	Little Bird

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some cute Lance centric stuff to brighten ur day, enjoy, also there is only implied relationships but it's like -- obvious. K! Hope u enjoy:) also by no means am I a writer this is just short stuff for fun haa

_Little bird, little bird_  
_fly through my window,_  
_little bird, little bird_  
_fly through my window,_  
_little bird, little bird_  
_fly through my window,_  
_find molasses candy._  
_Through my window,_  
_my sugar lump;_  
_fly through my window,_  
_my sugar lump,_  
_find molasses candy._

_"Mama, sing the version with the jay bird!"_

_"Ah, ¡Mi querido! It's late. Your brothers and sisters are sleeping." The woman spoke in a hushed whisper, only making the five year old emit a quiet laugh from his lips._

_"Por favor?"_

_She sighed audibly, shaking her head. "Alright, my love. What does the jay bird say?"_

 

 

Growing up, Lance had a bit of a bumpy childhood. It was hard for his family sometimes, as everyone had so many activities they were involved in it was hard to get around, and properly manage their schedules. Yet, he loved them, all the same. They tried -- he remembered that. A lot of it remained a blur to the man. Having spent so long isolated in the depths of space without his home, Lance purposefully repressed the memories. It helped, at the time. Upon their arrival back to Earth, he wished he hadn't.

Nearly two hundred Earth years had passed over their course of expedition throughout the cosmos. When Lance was informed of this, his face went blank. Not an emotion slipped out. No sadness, no anger, no fear. Nothing. It was like any possible response had been sucked into a void, leaving Lance to simply stand up from where he was sitting, and wordlessly exit the room.

Only when he was permitted to visit his childhood home did he crumble. Lance broke, from inside out. His heart and mind shattered into irreparable pieces. He never told anyone. Simply left, and returned to the facility that their team was currently claiming as their temporary home.

 

 

It had been months -- years since then. Pidge went to work for a corporation that called themselves AKIRA. He'd been explained to many times what it stood for, but the abbreviation always slipped Lance's mind. It wasn't a necessary piece of information, anyway.

Allura did not remain on Earth long, nor did Coran. She claimed they had things to see, places to go. It was hard to wave them goodbye. Sometimes, late at night, Lance desperately missed them.

Keith, being his thrill seeking self, went searching for any job that would allow him to be armed with a knife at all times. Eventually, he found the perfect one. He was an FBI field agent now, for the United States government. Lance didn't think he'd ever seen Keith so excited about something in his life as the other male was when he got the acceptance letter.

On the other end of the spectrum, Hunk first settled down for a job working at a small bakery in Virginia, near Quantico where Keith was training. The job didn't last long. Inevitably, Hunk found himself remaining near Keith, and he too pursued a career working in such a field. Instead of as an agent, he decided to go with a field medic, as Hunk didn't like the prospect of harming rather than healing others. Of course, it took him a bit longer to become qualified for what he had applied for, but after months of dedication and hard work, he got it.

Shiro found his solace in becoming a trainer at the Air Force academy of New Mexico. He ushered young cadets to graduation, and simultaneously came into contact with previous captains suffering with PTSD. It was nice to him, connecting with people who understood in at least some way, without feeling like he was burdening his friends. Lance didn't mind it. He still got to see Shiro every night when he returned home.

Lance, on the other hand, was absolutely completed with the adventure in his life. There was a job opening for a daycare worker, an opportunity he sprung at. He loved it. Lance adored working with the children, hearing all their individual stories that they adored sharing with their teacher. Life was good, truthfully.

 

 

It was the first day of Spring, which meant Lance was legally allowed to have the children outside for longer than an hour a day. The smell of blooming flowers filled his nose while he sat under an umbrella, reading an old novel he'd picked up a week before, occasionally interacting with the children as necessary. However, the peaceful sounds of laughing and joy came to a halt very soon. The noises quickly dissipated into crying, and one little girl running up to tug at Lance's shirt.

"Mr. Lance, come here!" She begged desperately, attempting to pull him out of his chair.

With his face contorted in confusion, Lance feared the worst. The entire class was grouped around a hard to decipher object, and it caused the brunet male to swallow thickly while he hurried over. What he encountered was -- definitely something.

It was a bird, that appeared to be heaving, wing prominently injured where it lied. Lance recognised it as a blue jay, and at the visual, a surge of emotions coursed through his body. Shakily, Lance sat on the ground, all little eyes staring at him, hoping he could do something.

"Tatiana, would you mind bringing me the first aid kit? It's on the wall," Lance requested softly, resulting in the little girl hurrying to retrieve it. "Everyone, sit down, but be careful. We don't want to scare her," he told them, and they listened easily, afraid of hurting the animal.

Within moments, the small white box was brought outside, and Lance readily accepted it. Humming, he opened it, taking out a roll of gauze. He reached out cautiously, fleeting tips of his fingers brushing over the stomach of the bird. At the contact, the injured animal attempted to flee, body spazzing while it's wings flapped in a desperate attempt to fly away. This caused many of the children to gasp, scoot back against the grass. "Shh," Lance soothed, beginning to unwind the gauze.

"Jaybird, jaybird, fly through my window," he sang softly, many gazes adverting from the bird, to him now. Lance had always had a nice singing voice, and though puberty and lack of practice made it a bit scratchy, he didn't mind. It didn't appear that anyone else seemed to.

"Jaybird, jaybird, fly through my window,  
jaybird, jaybird, fly through my window,  
find molasses candy."

The words were nearly whispered while he sang, and this time when he reached out, the broken avifauna allowed the touch. Like a cat in a trance, it seemed to be soothed by the singing, so Lance continued. His fingers were gentle where they touched the injured wing, wrapping it in gauze, all to keep it settled and in place until he could take the creature to a veterinarian.

Before he knew it, there were children singing along with him, and despite it's occasional twitching when Lance pressed a little to hard, or touched a sensitive area, the bird was almost entirely still.

"Jaybird, jaybird  
fly through my window,  
jaybird, jaybird  
fly through my window,  
jaybird, jaybird  
fly through my window,  
find molasses candy.  
Through my window,  
my sugar lump;  
fly through my window,  
my sugar lump,  
find molasses candy."

Holding the bird in two hands, Lance carefully rose onto his legs, and made his way inside, twelve little pairs of feet trailing behind him.

"Jay, jay, jay," the youngest of their group chanted quietly, making the rest giggle.

"Mr. Lance, is she going to be okay?" A boy asked, and the man nodded while he laid the bird on a folded up blanket on one of their shelves.

"She's going to be just fine. I'm going to call an animal doctor to come get her, and they'll take really good care of her," Lance assured the class.

"Will we get to see her again?" Was the basic meaning of the next few questions that followed.

"I'll make sure we all get to see her again. Promise."


End file.
